


Let Them Eat Cake

by Sing



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: 0818, Birthdayfic, Established Relationship, F/M, Romance, cake?, smut?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-18
Updated: 2017-08-18
Packaged: 2018-12-16 20:02:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11836032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sing/pseuds/Sing
Summary: Abbie plans a surprise for Crane.In which Abbie jumps out of a cake and Crane gets to have his cake and eat it too.





	Let Them Eat Cake

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Sleepy Hollow (who wants to claim it anymore beats me but there it is) 
> 
> Also comments are love.

There was a party at the University, in his lecture hall, at end of the day in honour of Professor Ichabod Crane's Birthday. Modest, good spirited gathering of his colleagues had come in with a round, quaint store bought cake. Nothing to hoot or holler over. But they sang 'Happy Birthday' and 'For he's a jolly good fellow' and he was pleased with it. 

It would have to do for celebrations, he supposed. His dear wife, Abbie, had already informed him she'd be working late tonight. She had apologized a thousand times over in text messages and voicemails. He'd thought it very sweet and kept replying it was fine and he would amuse himself perfectly well the rest of evening, and they could have a glass of wine to cap the day. That would be satisfactory for him. He's merely grateful for another year of life at all, and to have Grace Abigail Mills-Crane, by his side. 

Polishing off a sliver of the cake that had had to share six ways he'd graciously thanks his peers and slinging coat over his arm and grasping his bag, slung it over his shoulder, got in the car, and drove home. 

He receives a message on his phone as he pulls in and his brows knit. "Dear me Abbie," he mutters to himself, beginning to feel a little worried for her sake that seems so disturbed by not being there to celebrate with him. He taps the message, opening it as he hunts for the keys with his free hand. 

_I'm sorry I couldn't be there with you tonight baby,_

_But I got you a helluva cake._

_And it's all yours. Indulge your sweet tooth today ;)_

Smirking to himself he turns the key in the lock and pushes in. Well he must admit, he does love sweets. Icing and flavours and all of the sweetness that he knows could rot his teeth---but if dearest Abbie, his heart and treasure has gone to the trouble of providing him with a celebratory confectionary, who, who I ask, is he to refuse her generosity? His phone buzzes again as he kicks off his shoes. 

_It's in the kitchen_

Puzzled, Crane advances. If he didn't know any better he would think Abbie knew exactly when he'd read his messages and where he was in the house. He drops his things and goes to the kitchen, pausing at the mammoth six tiered thing standing in the middle of the room. It's only a foot short than him. 

"Dear heaven." he murmurs. His eyes widen and he approaches the cake in awe and wonder. "Does she mean to indulge me or kill me," he whispers in disbelief, and he thinks he hears a snicker in response. His ears perk up. "Hello?" he drawls suspiciously, covertly sneaking around the kitchen aisle and procuring a knife from a drawer. "Who's there......"

More laughter. He turns about warily in the room and then raises a brow. The laughter. No, the  _giggle_ is coming from this giant cake. He draws nearer to it, head cocked curiously. He taps the cake and is surprised to hear it knock. Perplexed he steps backwards just as the top of the cake suddenly flies off. He spooks, stumbling, the knife clatter out of his hand and away and he goes crashing to the ground, scrabbling to right himself,confused, fidgeting, until he hears singing, emanating from the depths of the cake.A sultry, warm, seductive voice that makes the hairs on his arms stand on end and sends a small shiver down his spine. And then, slowly, rising out of it, the delicate brown dainty fingers, followed by arms, and the body he loves so well, so deeply, emerges. 

_Happy Birthday, to you_

It's Abbie.

_Happy, Birthday,_

She winks at him and does a slow, sinful turn, so he can admire her in full. 

Abbie is not wearing a stitch of clothing, save a frilly white thong. Her tantalizing perfect backside is bare to him, and he finds himself direly wishing to sink his teeth into the firm chocolatey globes---in fact if he's not mistaken, that  _is,_ chocolate frosting smeared on her cheeks. 

In fact, Abbie is  _covered_ in icing. Vanilla and chocolate smeared on her breasts and cherries she has nestled in mounds of whipped cream on her nipples. Down her abdomen he dares not ask how, but there are sprinkles clinging to her, and he thinks he glimmers a little silver sugar ball or two, maybe three, in her belly button. 

She runs her hands over her body, scoops a bit of frosting off a breast with a finger, just a touch, and sucks it into her mouth, releasing it with a pop and then blows him a kiss. 

_To, you_

Finally Ichabod manages to get to his feet and Abbie steps down out of the confectionary contraption towards him, with a deliberate sway of her hips that also sets her bosom bouncing. 

 _Happy Birthday, **dear** , _she pants breathlessly as she nears him, and now she is right before him and reaching to unbutton his shirt. 

 _Ich-a-bod, **Crane**_ , She purrs, and then bites her full lower lip, looking up at him beneath her fluttering dark lashes. She smells like a bakery. Vanilla and strawberries, honey, now up close, he can see she is lightly drizzles in sauces and he wonders how sticky she is, how much help she will need to get it all off and be squeaky clean. 

He ponders how long he will ardently, and joyously aid her in the task. 

"Abbie," he rasps.

"Now," She asks. "Do you want to blow out your a candle? Or," she taunts wickedly, she's accomplished the task of undoing his shirt and pushes it off his shoulders and begins reaching for his belt. She glances down, licking her lips at the protrusion in his trousers. "Or, hmm, _gee,_ I guess I could blow,  _you."_

He gulps. 

"So," Abbie continues, undeterred she pulls the belt free of its loops and flings it aside, gets the button and zipper and keeps her eyes on him at all times as she works to free him. When her hands encompass him his knees almost buckle, but the groan he can't fight. She grins at him. "So? What'll it be, birthday boy?" 

"I'd....I'd certainly like....a bite of cake, first," he rasps. Abbie's brows raise. 

"Before blowing out the candles? that's not really how it's done." And begins to sink to her knees. 

"Why bother with the pretence of asking---" his words choke off as she glides her hands along his shaft. 

"You're right, Baby. It's whatever you want. However you want. It's your special day. So what would you like?"

He's too distracted to deter her now, to be frank. And she  _knows_ it. He curses as her hands move and squeezes his eyes shut in anticipation when he sees her opening her mouth. And then,  _"Oh my soul."_ he murmurs as he is taken into her exquisite mouth. She's always good at this, too good. "You  _minx_ " 

Abbie blinks at him, eyes full of love and wickedness alike and he places a hand gently in her hair. She moans as she takes him in, sucking and pulling, rolling her tongue around him before she releases him and before he can hit his limit. He pants, stumbling again towards the wall but she crowds up against him. "Chocolate, or vanilla?" she entreats, pointing down to her chest. 

He looks down at her, smacking his lips before he plucks a cherry off the left vanilla one and pops it in his mouth. Then dips his finger in the whipped cream, trailing it around the nipple as he does so and feels her struggle not to shiver. He licks the icing off and then leans down, cupping her cheek. 

"Your lips, first." he rumbles. Abbie has the gall to tease him. 

"Which pair?"

"Oh, I assure you, Grace, Abigail Mills," he growls, his eyes darkening and a hand going to her hip. "Both, will be thoroughly kissed." Before she can get smart with him again his mouth slants over hers and her lips part eagerly for him. The taste of sugar and cherry passes to her mouth easily but it's what he gets back that surprises him. 

He can taste, cinnamon? vanilla? _Fudge?_  He blinks. "You taste like....."

"I ate a lot of sweet things before I hopped in there, so that everything you taste, will be a treat." 

The fact that she went to this extra effort turns him on even more. "Your kisses are plenty sweet without assistance Abbie, but, oh, it is appreciated." He dives back in for more, twining his tongue with hers, searching out all of the sweetness and flavours that may linger inside of her mouth as if he could be nourished by them while his fingers brush trails through the sticky syrups and creams on her body. He pulls back to lick his fingers, groaning obscenely and she delights in the way his eyes close and his groan of satisfaction before he turns his attention to the vanilla breast and begins to vigorously lick the icing off. 

" _Oh_ " she moans softly, when he has devoured the whipped cream and sucks her nipple into his mouth. Her finger reach through his hair lightly scratching his scalp. " _Oh Ichabod."_ And when finished with that he turns to the other and she arches into him, greedily, getting icing and sprinkles on him alike. He fondles the other while he sucks every sticky sweet trace from her skin, then lovingly licks a trail between her breasts, where salt meets sweet,  before paying homage to the other  in the same manner. When he's done there they exchange more hungry, sloppy, kisses, his mouth flavoured again with icing and she feels his hands pawing hungrily at her backside. 

"Turn around you delectable thing you." he instructs, sucking more frosting off his fingers, and so Abbie does, feeling him grip her hips and the light scratch of his beard as he nuzzles against her behind, pressing kisses to the flesh, smacking his lips as he goes and then she gives a small yelp when she feels teeth. "You must have known, I'd be tempted, to bite, nip, lick and suck, every, _inch_ of you like this," he accuses, probing a finger gently between her cheeks. She bends over and pushes back, letting a small whimper escape her lips. He doesn't go any further than to just tease her there and withdraws his hand. "Oh, have no fear, I promise you will get all my thanks for this feast. But now, at least, your backside is relatively clean. So now I can do this." Without warning Crane grips her hips and swings her up on the counter. Abbie's eyes sparkle at him. 

"You're worried about making a mess?"

"Not at all treasure. But I do know we could make a frightful mess of this kitchen, and I certainly don't intent to do any cleaning tonight. And _you_ won't be able to, once I'm through." He gives a roguish smirk as he captures her lips again and works down the planes of her stomach. Catching sprinkles on his tongue and giving them a light crunch.

He could very well have a cavity after all of this but it would be worth it. 

Pausing to chew briefly as he works his way down he examines her belly button. "How you got these to stay I'll never know," he murmurs, placing his lips over the small whole and sucks until the sugared balls fly into his mouth. Abbie has to admit, Crane's been doing a very, thorough job getting her relatively clean. Although she's still sticky, and she looks forward to hauling him in the shower with her after. Her blood is hot and her skin a flame from his stroking and fondling and licking and sucking and she's rather positive he's left marks--- _God_ _I hope he left marks_ she thinks and while she's certainly enjoying herself, she's glad her husband seems to be truly enjoying having his cake, and eating it too. 

Crane parts her legs and a hunger settles in his eyes that far outpaces his earlier fervour as he delves in, fingers first, slowly, indulgently, drawing a long low moan from her lips before he does her the kindness of letting his lips and tongue pleasure her as well. She grabs fistfuls of his hair. He is relentless as he works.  The way his tongue flicks and then his lips  suck on her and she comes undone. Heaving, gasping, crying out for him. She thrashes there on the counter, her hands grasped in her hair because he keeps going, driving her up and up and up again. 

"Happy Birthday to me," he hums indulgently to himself watching her wring herself out around his fingers, feeling her clench up around him. She slumps a little, breathless and then her eyes widen, as if she takes him in. sAs if he'd forgotten, he hasn't been inside her yet. 

"Oh," she chuckles a little nervously. "Maybe this wasn't such a good idea, I'm weak, Crane, give me a second." she smiles.

He arches a brow while he takes himself in hand. " _One_ ,"

Abbie's yelps. "Crane!" And then he is flush against her, chest to chest, his lips running on her neck. There's salt here, he thinks, pausing to suck the delicate skin there, and running his tongue up just behind her ear. Her nails dig into him and his hands press harder into her flesh. 

"Are you ready now, sweetness?"

Abbie nods, gripping his shoulders as he pushes in. " ** _Oh Crane."_**  

" _ **Yes Dear God Yes.**_ " he moans. "You're always so tight, and wet, and sublime. Treasure, I could....."

"Baby if you don't move," she giggles. 

And he is happy to oblige. His hips piston in and out and he leans back far enough to watch as he disappears inside of her. Their bodies wrack and sway until her breath becomes  shallow and higher in pitch. Suddenly he curses. Her eyes blink open. Before she can understand what's going on his arms wrap around her, still joined, and he hoists her up and marches to the living room, repositioning on the couch.

 _Oh this won't be good for the upholstery,_ she thinks fleetingly, and for a moment his mouth curls in a manner that tells her, he's just thought the same thing. 

"We'll have them redone," he smiles, pulling back, and slamming back in. 

Her retort is efficiently obliterated because his thrust knock the air from her lungs. He takes her higher in not time, keeps her on the edge wanting freedom from his relentless love making and still never wanting it to end. Quivering beneath him she takes in his beautiful, disheveled visage, the sweat on his face. Chocolate and powdered sugar, and sprinkles, she snickers, caught in his beard, and meets his eyes. The eyes of the man she loves. The eyes of man, who is the---her heart swells and whispers. " _Make a wish baby."_  

A sharp fleeting grin, his eyes close and he calls out for her as he finds release and slumps on top of her. Abbie pets his hair as he turns to kiss her cheek. 

"Did you like your cake?" she asks. Crane's eyes dance with mischief. 

"I do believe, Abbie, that I could go for seconds." 

Abbie gulps. Feeling her body flush warm again. "How about we shower? hmm? And then I really do, have cake for you." she winks. 

* * *

 

The shower takes twice as long. 

One because they spent more time making more of a mess of each other than cleansing.

And then actual cleansing. 

And then kissing senseless and breathlessly under the rush of the shower head and letting him slip into her from behind while she braced against the wall. Steam curling up and fogging the bathroom mirror. 

* * *

Downstairs in the kitchen, a mess. 

That they will deal with, tomorrow. 

For now, Abbie in the flimsiest camisole and shorts she can find, purely to tempt him, he's sure. And himself, adorned in the new lounge pants she'd gotten for him and itching to go crack open that limited edition box set of greek mythology, he watches his wife saunter to the fridge and withdraw from it, a simple looking cake. 

"It's marble," she smiles, as she brings it over and lights a single candle. "Happy Birthday, Ichabod Crane. My man." she says warmly and her eyes shine. "I love you, so much."

"Abbie darling there are no words, for how much love I carry for you. No words."  He reaches for her hand and she takes it, their fingers lacing together she slides onto his lap and leans against him, singing a much sweeter, less seductive rendition of Happy Birthday, and after kisses him sweetly. 

"Come on," she urges. "Blow out your candle,"

"Ah, yes." the corners of his lips tug upwards as he faces the cake proper, spares a moment to take in the yellow and blue flowers and curve and swirl of the chocolate frosting, and then begins to read the words that span the surface in green.

" _Happy Birthday, daddy."_  

It takes him a moment. "Treasure...." he starts unsurely, "What does---" 

Deftly, she guides his hand to her abdomen. Abbie reaches up to caress his cheek. "Happy Birthday,  ** _daddy_** " 

His eyes widen, instantly brimming with tears. " _Grace_. Truly? You're....I'm.....?"

All Abbie can do his nod happily and he hugs her tight. "This day continues to bear gifts! Oh Abigail, my heart, this, this is easily, the most wonderful birthday, I've ever had." 

"I love you Ichabod," she says, softly kissing him before he turns and abruptly blows out his candle. "What did you wish for?" she asks, eyes twinkling. 

Ichabod Crane beams at her. "Nothing. All of my wishes, Abbie, today, have come true.  _ **I love you.**_ "

They cut the cake, and take turns feeding each other spoonfuls. Day dreaming and fanciful, a boy, or a girl, already throwing around names. 

She dabs icing on his nose and he laughs.

And they share many more sweet kisses, thinking happily of the future. 

 

 


End file.
